


Faint

by DaisyFairy



Series: Two Word Prompts [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caring Sherlock, Gen, PTSD John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 00:26:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6633307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFairy/pseuds/DaisyFairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crime scene is too much for John, fortunately Sherlock is there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faint

**Author's Note:**

> The second short thing I have written based on a prompt from two words from a random word generator. This time the words were Faint and Chromatic. Not sure if this is quite the right use of the word Chromatic, but this is what popped into my head.

The taxi arrives and Sherlock steps out, all dramatic coat, upturned collars and cheekbones. Swirling into the crime scene and drawing every eye. John follows behind quietly, unassuming in his sensible coat and jumper, almost invisible next to the drama queen that is his friend.

They take in the scene, an ex soldier, all dressed up in his uniform, lying dead, a gun shot to the stomach, blood everywhere. Dead eyes staring accusingly at those who had failed to save him. There had been a gun fight, bullet holes riddle the walls and the dead soldier's gun lies empty and discarded near to his body. The smell of gunpowder fills the air. Sherlock glances at John with his all seeing eyes, a frown adorns his face for half a second before his normal impassive expression returns , then gets to work.

Everyone is focused on Sherlock, he is making observations, insulting the police officers and prancing around, drawing attention away from his blogger. John, unnoticed leans against the wall, the sights around him are beginning to mix with memories of other soldiers, other gun fights and men who he had been unable to save. His breathing is becoming rapid and his vision narrowing, he feels his muscles begun to go lax and his eyes start to roll up into his head as he is about to faint from the onslaught of flashbacks. Suddenly he feels his arm being pulled, the shock enough to momentarily bring him back to consciousness.  
"Come John, the roof, I have a theory." Sherlock drags and half carries John out of the room and calls over his shoulder "No-one else, your stupidity will only contaminate the scene."

The door slams behind them and they go up the flight of stairs leading to the roof of the old building they are in. Sherlock dragging him, John is trying to focus on the present enough to put one foot in front of the other, but constantly being dragged back into the past, the sounds of gunfire and explosions loud in his ears and the constant feeling that a sniper has him in his sights, any second the trigger will be pulled and his blood will spill, staining the ground crimson.

When they reach the roof Sherlock slams the door and pushes John against it, stopping anyone else from joining them. He stands with his arms bracketing John in each side, "John, stay there." he murmurs. His coat is open so the heavy wool settles around them, John is completely enclosed in the space between the door and Sherlock. If it was anyone else he would be fighting to escape, the panic from his flashbacks would be clawing at him to get away, but Sherlock's familiar scent and the sound of his voice calms John enough to keep him in the present. John stares at those chromatic eyes, no one else has eyes like that, keeping his gaze fixed on them grounds him, he is in London, with Sherlock, those eyes let him know he is home. 

Sherlock is holding John up by the arms, but other than that its barely touching him. He has started an endless litany of reassurances "It's ok John, you are safe. There is no sniper. This is London. You are safe. You are here with me. I'll keep you safe. You are here, with me. There is no war, there are no bombs." He continues to talk as John's breathing gradually calms and his vision clears. Five minutes later he can hold himself up without falling down. Sherlock trails off and tips his head to the side in a silent question, John replies with a brief nod. A brief squeeze of John's shoulders and a small smile, then Sherlock steps away. He glances around the roof and then says.  
"The killer hid up here whilst waiting for our victim, see the cigarette ash and scuff marks over here?" Pointing to an area of the roof near to the front of the building. "I will go and inform Lestrade and check the crime scene some more. You can go to the shops. you have been very lax, we have completely run out of honey, and I need nicotine patches. Oh, you might want to get some new mugs, I am using the old ones for frog spawn. Off you go."

Sherlock vanishes down the stairs, John follows slowly and is just passing the door to the flat full of police officers when he hears Sherlock's voice saying dismissively "I sent him to the shops, there is no point both of us wasting our time with this case that a school child could solve, and he needs to get my nicotine patches and go back and clean the flat."

John hears one of the officers just inside the door muttering to another "I don't know why John puts up with that arrogant bastard using him like a skivvy." 

He continues down the stairs and escapes to the fresh air of the street, smiling to himself at the knowledge that, even if he likes to pretend otherwise, Sherlock Holmes really does care about his best friend.


End file.
